


Dreamshare

by chasingriver



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Crack Crossover, Dreams, Dreamsharing, Eames never shuts up, Fluff and Crack, Humor, Inspired by Dreams, M/M, Not RPF, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:10:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6952384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingriver/pseuds/chasingriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"That's not what the word means, Eames."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreamshare

**Author's Note:**

>   
>    
> 

“I think it was LA or something,” Eames muses.

“— now is not the time,” Arthur barks out, ducking behind a concrete pillar as a bullet whizzes by his ear. He glances back and sees a small army of very pissed-off projections running towards them, shooting as they go.

“It was warm. And sunny. Definitely California.”

“Shut up, Eames!” He fires off some more rounds, taking down five of them. “You get the left side.”

“I’ll get all of them,” he says with a smirk, and tosses a hand grenade at the remainder of the projections. They both run like hell in the opposite direction and take cover behind a car as the grenade explodes.

“That wasn’t very subtle.”

“It’s not like they don’t know we’re here.”

Arthur shrugs, not meeting his gaze as they run towards the stairwell, no projections in pursuit but time still not on their side.

“So for some reason, we were all dressed up in Star Wars costumes —”

“— what?” They’re taking the stairs two at a time, and it’s bad enough that Eames isn’t even breathing hard, without being subjected to … whatever _this_ is.

“And I was C-3PO, which was idiotic, because why anyone would want to hide my face with a droid outfit —”

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll shoot you myself.”

“Can’t yet. Job’s not done.”

Arthur doesn’t even have to turn around to know that Eames is grinning at him, because he can hear it in his voice.

Eames takes out two pursuers with neat, quick shots and they get out of the stairwell. The drab beige hallways of the mark’s office building make Arthur’s skin crawl. How anyone can work in a place like this is beyond him.

Eames follows him silently down the corridors. _Finally_ , Arthur thinks. They reach the office at the end of the hallway — a corner suite with heavy wooden doors and a brass nameplate reading “Eilert Massot, Director of Finance.” No one shows up as they break the lock and hurry inside, where Arthur gets to work opening the safe. Eames covers him, his stance ready and gun trained at the only entrance to the windowless room. The tumblers click into place as he solves the combination lock.

“The weirdest part was, all the people were stars from the Batman movies.”

He looks up at Eames, completely thrown by the non-sequitur.

Eames hasn’t moved, eyes still locked on the door, but he’s blithely carrying on. “Not Michael Keaton though, I mean, he’s old enough to be my dad. But that Cillian Murphy bloke, and Heath Ledger. Someone else too, but I can’t remember who now.”

And Arthur should know better than to get into this discussion, because that way madness truly lies, but he says, “Heath Ledger’s dead.”

“No, he was R2-D2.”

And he doesn’t even know where to start with that.

He should tell Eames to shut up (again) but now he can’t help himself. “Who was Cillian Murphy?”

“Princess Leia.”

As he processes that — or tries to — Eames interrupts with, “We weren’t _in_ the movie, mind, just dressed up as the characters. We were going to a comic book shop.”

“Of course you were.” He pulls his mind off Cillian-as-Leia and back to the task at hand. The last tumbler falls into place, and he swings the safe door open with a triumphant flourish. The waiting folder is as drab-looking as the office paint scheme, but it has the information they need and he quickly commits it to memory. “Right. We’re outta here.”

Eames nods. “See you on the other side.”

With a single shot between Eames’ eyes, and then his own, Arthur frees them from the dream.

They wake up in one of the massage rooms in the hotel spa, Massot unconscious and hooked to the PASIV on the table. Cobb’s still out.

“Another three minutes on the clock,” Arthur says. “We finished early.” He gives Eames a wicked grin. “You want to kick him or shall I?”

“Oh, darling, you have to ask?” Eames knocks Cobb’s chair over, taking perhaps a bit too much joy in it. He bends down so he’s the first thing Cobb sees when he jerks awake. “Sleep well?”

Cobb startles, confused. “Did you get it? What happened?”

Arthur’s already rolling up the lines, leaving Massot’s for last. “We’re all set. Get the chairs.” Cobb stacks the extra chairs and puts them in the hallway, where the paid-off masseuse spirits them away.

Eames removes the needle from Massot’s wrist, and Arthur closes up the PASIV. There are precious few moments before he’ll start to come around. They file out of the room and Arthur nods to the waiting masseuse. “Mr. Massot is finished with his massage. Thank you.” She’s been paid ahead of time, but he hands her a wad of bills as insurance.

“My pleasure,” she says, and disappears into the massage room.

They take the back stairs down through the hotel, ducking into the nearest floor when someone else joins them in the stairwell a few floors above. It’s unlikely to be related to their job, but there’s no point in taking chances.

As they hurry down the hotel hallway, as nonchalantly as possible, Eames says, “He didn’t like the Princess Leia outfit though, so we went back to the van to change.”

Cobb stops in his tracks. Arthur doesn’t miss a beat and just mutters, “Oh, for fuck’s sake” under his breath, and then, “C’mon Cobb. Ignore him.”

“What’s he talking about?”

“One of his dreams.”

“A job?” Cobb says, hurrying to catch up with them.

“No, one of his real dreams. He started having them a week ago and won’t shut up about them.”

Eames beams at them, a smile full of teeth, like he’s done something clever. And he has, really, when it comes to the dreamless world of dreamscape life.

“How’d you do it?” Cobb asks, jealous and eager.

Eames shrugs. “Wish I knew.” He turns to Arthur and goes back to his story. “So we decided the comic book store wasn’t worth it, and besides, we were worried they’d get recognized.”

They take the elevator down to the parking garage, and random hotel guests necessitate putting the conversation on hold until they get in the car.

“I wanted to know more about being a Batman villain. Thought it might be a good career move.”

“What are you —” Cobb starts.

Eames ignores him. “So we all got changed and went to the beach. Heath looked a lot better in board shorts than he did as R2-D2.”

Cobb stops asking questions, which is for the best.

“Then we all went to get chips and sat on the beach watching the sun set. Very California. Heath gave me tips on how to act villains — said not to play it subtle.”

“That better have been all he gave you,” Arthur says petulantly.

“Oh, don’t worry darling, I think he was supposed to be you. Cobb, don’t you think Arthur looks like Heath Ledger?”

“Um … I suppose?” He doesn’t sound sure.

“Besides, we got into an argument over whether you should eat chips with ketchup or vinegar, so it didn’t get any further than that.”

“Did you want it to?”

Eames chuckles. “If I had, we wouldn’t have been arguing over condiments. Don’t worry love, in my next dream, I’ll get you a starring role with me in a Batman film.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on a really cracky dream I had. But hey, it got me writing again. 
> 
> Thanks to kate_the_reader for the beta. 
> 
> I'm on tumblr at [chasingriversong](http://chasingriversong.tumblr.com).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Dreamshare](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6987949) by [chasingriver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingriver/pseuds/chasingriver)




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